


Fooled You Well Enough

by Phylix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jesse McCree, Clothed Sex, Gambler Jesse McCree, Jesse just gets fucked, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Partial stranger sex, Semi-Public Sex, Some Humor, Top Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylix/pseuds/Phylix
Summary: Jesse McCree returns from a mission that was botched. He was forced to disguise himself to stay unknown while returning home. He is not thrilled with the prospect of looking like the cheating villainous gambler in his old cowboy movies.   After attempting to drown his sorrows in bourbon, he finds another agent really cannot really tell who he is and finds out that someone may just have a bit of a cowboy fetish.





	Fooled You Well Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Riverboat McCree skin but hate the Gambler skin. I totally think it is because he is blond and I must say, I hate the idea of Jesse McCree being blond. So this is me trying to give a reason to why, oh why, our favorite gay cowboy suddenly has terrible blond hair. Plus it is obvious to everyone Hanzo has a fetish for cowboys. He likes 'em rough and hairy.

He had been compromised. The mission, while still a success, did not go off as he planned. The target made him as he was on his way out, forcing him to change his appearance. Gone were his jeans, comfortable flannel and Stetson and in was a gaudy costume so over the top it even made him blush. He found it in the first shop he ducked into, a costume shop it turned out, but the make and cut looked professional enough and it was one thing McCree had learned in all his years on the run, sometimes the best way to go unnoticed was to be as gaudy looking as hell. 

His face was the most recognizable thing. He found a bathroom and a cheap bottle of hair bleach and went about shaving his scruff off, leaving a tiny goatee and mustache (He wasn’t about to feel naked, now) and cut his hair short. He left the goo in his hair long enough to start to feel the burn against his scalp before deciding that was enough and washed it all out. It was enough though to lighten his ruddy brown hair into a soft blonde without making him that terrible yellow/orange that Genji sometimes sported before going to the brilliant green. He felt like a fool. He managed to get his facial hair to even sport the same wheat color, which he was rather impressed about. He slicked his hair back, out of his eyes, which finished off his dramatic transformation.

Now, he sat in a bar back in the heart of Gibraltar, slinging back whiskeys. He managed to escape the town unnoticed by his pursuers, if not the rest of the airport and made it back to Spain with a couple of flight transfers and quick communication to the rest of Overwatch over his safety and whereabouts. Three days it took him to get back with all the changing of flights, just in case someone had made him in this outfit, just enough to throw anyone else off his scent. Like every Overwatch agent, he was supplied with false passports and identification, which he used each time he traveled to a new city.

The only good thing to come out of the damn mission was the realization that his lucky hat was not lost forever, but was back on base, probably hanging off the post of his bed, and the hat he lost held no sentimental value past being quite expensive. Genji had also passed him a text informing him on getting him an appointment at a local hair salon to make his coloring right again, Genji’s treat. He didn’t know how long he could keep this awful color.

Blond was not his color. It washed out his natural skin tone, somehow making his tanned skin tone seem lighter and his whiskey brown eyes look darker. He did not like a moment of this...costume. He looked like a cowboy. Well, he always looked like a rugged cowboy. But this getup made him look like the asshole villain in every bad cowboy movie on his shelf. The cheating gambler that the hero cowboy would shoot the minute he found his hustling cards. He looked like such a douchebag. His suit was a tacky light olive green with gold embellishments at the cuffs, collar and, for some ungodly reason, the shoulders. To make it worse, there was a gold vest underneath and, to top it off, some red bowtie. He at least found a similar hat, so his head was not bare.

He looked into the mirror that sat behind the bottles of whiskey and tried to not laugh, slinging back another shot of whiskey. He was back in Gibraltar, at the very least now. He knew he should get back to base, into his own bed and get a good night rest. He knew he had a mission debriefing to write. But right now, all he wanted was to get blackout drunk and find a pretty young thing to wet his dick. God, he hoped someone could look past this ridiculousness and want to blow him.

He felt a shift to his left as a body filled the vacant seat. McCree turned further away, tossing back another shot as the boisterous laugh of the man next to him pulled a drunk woman into his lap. The two began to noisily profess their love for one another by sucking face.

McCree looked up as the bartender moved over. He held out his empty glass. “Bourbon,” He ordered, gruffly. “Neat.”

“Sure thing,” He set out a glass and poured. “This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar,” He motioned over. McCree’s gaze followed him along the bar to the end where a familiar agent sat, smirking at him as he stirred the drink that sat in front of him.

Hanzo, looking as smug as always in his spot. McCree lifted the glass, thanking him. It was the last thing he wanted, honestly, to have any agent see him in this state. He was was gaudy and idiotic looking. Hanzo was never kind when it came to him. At best, he was carefully guarded and aloof. At worst he was derogatory and argumentative. Seeing him in this state was just more fuel for the Hanzo fire that McCree did not want to flame.

Hanzo raised his own glass, a pompous smirk plastered on his perfectly sculpted face and moved away from the bar, taking his drink with him. McCree rolled his eyes and knocked back the bourbon. He pulled out his wallet and left cash under the empty glass to pay for his drinks and a tip before moving away and bumping right into the man he was trying to avoid.

A smirk played on Hanzo’s lips, “Leaving?”

McCree swayed slightly, tipping his hat back. “It is nearly midnight.” He could keep this brief. Casual. He could get out of here and back to base before Hanzo tore him down with simple words.

“I didn’t realize you were Cinderella,” Hanzo’s voice was like velvet. “Or I would have bought you a drink sooner, Cowboy.”

McCree felt a flush run up his cheeks that only doubled in intensity as Hanzo ran his hand up his forearm to rest at his elbow. “I, uh,” He faltered as strong fingers worked their way around his arm and pulled him forward, putting their hips flushed together.

“Cat got your tongue?” Hanzo chuckled, using one of McCree’s various colloquialisms. Generally, Hanzo would scoff and roll his eyes when McCree would use any metaphorical saying in conversation, but the way it rolled off his tongue sounded less like a jab at his dialect, and more like….flirting? 

“I guess I don’t have to leave right away,” McCree managed, curious on where this conversation was heading. Hanzo never acted this wanton, and it had him wondering what his endgame was. “It’s not like I will turn into a pumpkin if I am a little late.”

Hanzo’s laugh was full as his thumb rubbed circles against McCree’s elbow and it clicked: Hanzo did not recognize him. At all. He met Hanzo’s eye and titled his head to the side and smirked. “Tell me something, Sugar, am I your type?”

Hanzo tilted his head as his smirk widened into a full smile, “Tall, handsome, rugged men are my type,” He tittered. “Being a cowboy….” His eyes roamed over McCree’s body. “Just adds to it.”

McCree took a chance, putting his arms around Hanzo’s middle, pulling him close, “Cowboy fetish?” He purred out. “I can totally work with that, Sugar.” He felt Hanzo shiver at the pet name and pulled him in closer.

“I never said cowboy, but you do tick all my boxes, Maverick,” Hanzo’s arms snaked their way around his middle and pulled him in close. McCree became acutely aware of something else against his thigh. “And I think that I tick more than a few of yours.”

His mouth went dry. McCree licked his lower lip and looked at the man that held him. “I reckon you do, Beautiful.” He reached up and stroked a stray black hair out of Hanzo’s face and managed to compose himself enough to smirk back. He took a chance and leaned down, capturing Hanzo’s lips in a tentative kiss.

Hanzo groaned and tightened the grip around his middle and pulled McCree in deeper. The kiss evolved into a battle of teeth and tongue disguised as affection. Hanzo took McCree’s lower lip into his mouth and bit down, pulling it away before releasing it with a low groan. “Tell me you live nearby,” His fingers rubbed circles through the cloth of his long coat and made sure to hold his body tight against his own.

“I wish I did,” He purred out and peppered light kisses along Hanzo’s jaw. He rolled his hips against the other’s reinforcing how much he enjoyed this public tryst with the other man. “But the bar is pretty packed, and I doubt anyone will notice if we just…” He trailed off and nodded his head towards the back door.

Hanzo licked his swollen, pink lips and led him towards the door, slipping out into the alley without a sound. The night was warm and the lights danced off the buildings in the main street just steps away for where they were, leaving them awash in soft yellow light. The alley where they stood was blissfully empty. 

McCree turned to make a comment about the night to his partner, only to be quickly silenced by another breathy kiss that pressed him against the concrete wall. The Stetson fell off his head and into the street. 

He moaned around the hot mouth that devoured his. Hanzo was heat and power. His tongue dominated McCree’s and left his brain to shut down, just demanding more of that power against his body, wanting to feel his heat and power. Hanzo pulled back for a breath and left McCree to lean his head against the wall, panting to catch his breath. Hanzo nuzzled at his neck, leaving soft kisses against the skin as he undid the bowtie around his neck, “What is your name, Maverick?”

McCree’s brain was abuzz, a white noise filling his senses and threatened to spill every secret to this man that had nothing but kiss him and still managed to dishevel him so. If he said his name, it would be over. Hanzo’s hot breath and calloused hands would be gone and it would leave his raging body left with nothing but blue balls. 

“How ‘bout it, cowboy,” He licked a line up from his collarbone to his ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and suckling hard enough to bruise. “What should I call you?”

Maverick. Maverick. Maverick.

“Bret,” He said with a groan, arching into that delicious mouth. “Call me Bret.”

Hanzo caught his lobe in his teeth and pulled, “And I am Ryu.”

It took everything in him to not chuckle at Hanzo’s chosen sex name. Of course, he would go for the name that meant dragon. He rolled his hips forward and groaned loudly, finding his arms around the other man’s broad shoulders and pulling at the black shirt he was wearing.

Hanzo smirked against his neck. “I want to suck your dick,” He nipped at the sensitive skin around his Adam's apple. Before McCree could respond, Hanzo dropped to his knees smoothly. His deft hands made quick work of the belt and he had to laugh. McCree made one purchase before leaving his mission. In a window, he saw a gaudy belt buckle. Large and gold, it proudly showed a cowboy sitting upright, lasso in hand while he rode a bucking bed. Emblazoned over it stated firmly “Cowboys stay in the saddle longer”. He felt his face flush as Hanzo’s fingers traced over the belt buckle. His eyes trailed up, meeting McCree’s. “God I hope this is true.”

McCree pulled away from the wall enough to let Hanzo pull his pants down, bunching them at his knees. He heard another chuckle come from the man on his knees and felt his face flush. Hearing another man laugh that close to his most intimate areas. He growled and looked down, carding his hand through his hair and tugged his hair. “What're you laughing at there?”

“Bold man,” Hanzo moaned at the tight tug against his scalp. “With that belt and no underwear. You knew you would be fucked tonight.” Hanzo’s leaned up and pressed an open mouth kiss against his hip. “I am going to also venture you have condoms and lube in those deep pockets of yours.”

McCree shuttered as hot, open mouth kisses moved across his stomach, licking at the taunt skin and biting down on his hipbone. His hand carded through the back hair, pulling out the hair tie and letting the silky locks fall on his shoulders. “Fuckin’ hell, Sugar.” He swore as the man insisted on ignoring the girth of his cock. Hanzo hand ghosted against McCree’s thigh, rubbing at the skin just next to his heavy balls, causing them to tighten against his body and his cock to twitch, begging for attention. “You are a big boy,” Hanzo smiled, resting his cheek against his lip, his tongue darted out to flick against McCree’s shaft. “I like my men big. Especially where it counts.”

McCree whimpered and slammed his head back against the wall, grounding himself as strong fingers moved up to his tip and slowly swirled against the gland, spreading the precome all along the shaft. A finger dipped into the foreskin and rubbed against his cock, trapped between the loose skin and the sensitive head. He pulled the cock towards him with that finger and licked at the slit. He moaned at the salty taste that flooded his senses.

“Fuckin’ suck me,” McCree growled out. “Stop this damn teasing, you damn minx.” A hard yank against his hair released a wonderfully sinful moan to emanate from the man on his knees. His dark eyes were blown wide and glossed over, already drunk on sex.

It was lewd, the way he leaned forward, holding McCree’s sex in his open mouth. He looked up and made sure he caught McCree’s eye as he lapped at the head of his cock with his tongue. McCree let out an equally racy moan, not even caring they were in a very public place where hundreds of tourists walked the main streets. The knowledge they could be caught at any moment added to the allure of this dangerous sex. “Take it all to the root, baby,” He licked his dry lips. His hand moved to grip the base of his own cock and slapped it against Hanzo’s cheek, reveling in the display.

Hanzo’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and he patiently awaited the cock to be inserted. His hand moved down, covering McCree’s as he pumped the cowboy, pulling the foreskin down and he took him into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks as he began to slowly work the Cowboy’s length. His lips stretched over the engorged flesh and slowly worked his way to the root.

“Atta boy,” McCree moaned, threading his fingers back into Hanzo’s hair, resting at the base of his head to ground the man. He watched his cock disappear deeper and deeper into that puffy, pink mouth until Hanzo’s nose nuzzled against the curly hair that sat at the base of his cock. Hanzo’s hands were at his thighs, moving around to stroke at McCree’s well-sculpted ass and kneaded the flesh as he looked up again to McCree. 

He held Hanzo there, against the base of his cock. He languished in the feeling of that neatly trimmed beard against his balls. He held him there until he felt the other resist and pulled back. His hand came away and groaned at the cool air against his hot flesh and heard the pop as his cock was released from his tight heat. “Fuck me, baby,” He moaned out.

Hanzo licked his bruised lips, chasing the taste. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Hanzo stood with all the grace of the Shimada name and slipped the olive long coat from McCree’s shoulder’s and let it drop into the street. “Turn around.”

McCree moaned and turned, pressing his hands against the wall and spread his legs as wide as they will go with his pants still bunched around his knees. “Do I not get to return the favor there?” His voice was hoarse and deep, his accent thicker than normal as he looked behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of the cock that would soon be pressed inside him.

Hanzo stepped into his line of sight and undid those tight, black jeans and released his cock. McCree watched it bob in the cool night air and admired its length. He was not as big as McCree, but damn, the man was broad everywhere it counted. He licked his lips, regretting that he could not get that into his own mouth. “Sweetness, you are hotter’n a tin roof in August,” He panted, arching his back up to give Hanzo easier access to his hole. 

Hanzo looked up and quirked an eyebrow before moving back to McCree’s side, letting his fingers play at the cleft of his ass. “I have no idea what your metaphors mean,” He purred into his ear before letting the pad of his thumb brush over the tight ring of muscle. His thumb pressed in, threatening to breach him. McCree moaned, throwing his head back. 

“Ain’t nothin’ but a complement, Darlin’,” He mumbled out, feeling a line of cool running down his cleft and into the deep valley of his ass. He moaned as long fingers moved to slick up the entire path of his crack, teasing at his hole. Those skilled fingers moved even further down to rub at his taint. McCree felt his knees go weak as his eyes fluttered closed. His hands sought purchase against the cool concrete in front of him. “Sugar, please, I ain’t gonna take more teasing, Baby. Put me outta my misery.”

Hanzo chuckled and leaned in, pressing his thumb against McCree’s tailbone as his index finger curled and pushed into his tight entrance. McCree flung his head back and let out a feral moan as he pushed back against the finger. “More, Baby. I need it. Fill me up, baby.” His voice was guttural, wrecked from just the torment Hanzo inflicted on him. 

Hanzo relished in the deep smoking sound emanating from the man as he begged for more inside him and the squelch of his fingers inside the slick mess of the man. He curled his finger inside and watched as his knees trembled and bucked against his lone digit. Hanzo pushed the white shirt further up his back with his free hand, enjoying the tawny skin and muscular back of the man. Running his hand further up, and finally grasping a handful of the slick blond hair and pulling. The man yelped and moaned all at the same time.

Hanzo added a second finger. His fingers scissored inside him immediately as he felt the man relax into his careful movements. He watched the hole easily spread open and felt a moan rolling off his own lips as the lubricant slowly dripped down, out of his greedy hole. Hanzo bit his lower lip and quickly found himself ramming a third finger into him, wanting nothing more than to hear the starved moans of the man.

McCree’s head rested against the concrete, his fingers spread wide as he pushed back against the man’s hand, moaning out more encouragements, unabashed in his need to be filled. “Fuck me, Darlin’. Ram that big ol’ cock right into me to the hilt. Make me really feel it tomorrow,” He mewled, looking back. He pressed his shoulders into the wall and leaned further forward. His hands came to rest on either side of his ass and he spread his cheeks wider, letting Hanzo get a full view of everything he had to offer. 

Even from this angle he could see how clean shaven Hanzo was, not a hair on his beautiful body, everything meticulously trimmed, a stark contrast to the plains and valleys of McCree’s own wild, hairy body. The look in Hanzo’s eyes though, as he looked over McCree’s most intimate places made his cock drool. He knew what he must look like, debased and sweating. Lube clinging to his body and making his dark skin shine. He saw Hanzo lick his lips as three fingers twisted and curled inside his greedy, swollen hole. Hanzo’s dark eyes, still drunk with pleasure, watching this stranger take it all from him and then plead for more like a slut.

McCree moaned again, louder this time and added his own fingers into his tight hole, stretching him to the point where it burned. “Come on, Baby, are you gonna make me finish myself off here?”

Hanzo seemed to snap back to the moment and looked down at his own exposed, and painfully untouched cock. Precome dribbled out of the tip just as freely as McCree’s own cock. He removed his hands from McCree with a sloppy squelch and moved to his own cock, generously lubing it up before pressing the tip to his hole.

McCree moaned, spreading his ass wide with both hands. “Do it, Baby. Take this dirty whore right here.”

Hanzo let out a growl and slapped his cock along the cleft of McCree’s ass, continuing to tease him even this far into the dangerous game they were playing. “I would normally ask the men I fuck to beg, but you have already shown a talent for talking,” he pressed in, the head of his cock pushing past the tight ring. His hand guiding his member. “It seems the real display of finesse is when I fuck you silent.”

It burned as his cockhead pressed into him, just as wide as the four fingers and McCree felt himself start to drool at the sensation. It was the most delectable of feelings, knowing the man behind him was nothing but a wall of muscle that was capable of killing a man with his bare hands. At this moment, Hanzo could snap his neck and he would consider it the most blissful way to get to heaven. He licked his lips, catching the drool and pressed back as he felt the familiar snugness of his head fully encased within his body. He let out a shameless moan and let his hands reach further back to grip Hanzo’s hips. “More,” He growled, not wanting the other to wait for him to adjust. He wanted it all. Inside him. Now.

Hanzo’s grip moved to his hip, the other hand still painfully in his hair, pulling back and crashing their lips together in a fevered kiss as he thrust his hips forward, bottoming out in one, quick thrust.

McCree moaned against his lips, tongue darting out to lick and catch any instance of Hanzo he could find. Hanzo held his place, deep within him as his hand moved around to McCree’s stomach and pressed in, moaning. “D-Do you feel me in you, Maverick?” He licked the shell of his ear, his voice not nearly as strong or powerful as he would like. He wanted this to last. Wanted to feel this fucking cowboy stranger on dick more, but already, with no physical contact, Hanzo was already teetering on the edge of bliss. 

McCree’s head slumped forward in a nod. “Move,” He said again. “Fucking Move!” He dropped all pet names, just wanting one thing from this man. His hips canted back, driving Hanzo in even deeper and causing both men to let out strangled cries.

Hanzo nodded, resting his head between McCree’s shoulder blades, the shirt sticking to his sweat covered back. He rocked forward once before slowly pulling back and almost out before ramming his cock back into that delicious heat.

Jesse moaned again. His fingers dug deep into the hips of the other man leaving crescent moon indentations. His fingers pulled hard against him, forcing Hanzo to pick up the pace and leaving what he knew would develop into bruises. 

His cock bobbed freely in front of him, and he delighted in the feel of Hanzo’s heavy balls slapping against his taint. His head lolled back again and he let out another debauched moan. Fingers moved out of his hair and rammed themselves into his mouth. They pressed down on his tongue and he instinctively closed his lips around them, licking and suckling at them.

“Good boy,” Hanzo breathed out against his shoulder blades. “If you won’t shut up, I’ll put your mouth to better use.” 

Jesse felt himself nod again. He would agree to anything this man set out before him right now. Anything to keep this pleasure mouthing. He could feel it building in the pit of his stomach. A tightening in his belly that moved directly into his balls, pulling them in tight. His limbs began to tremble harder as he tried to concentrate on the fingers in his mouth, lick and suck and promise things to the man behind him Secret talents McCree was not able to show during this encounter. 

His vision went white behind his closed eyes and he knew he tried to swallow the fingers in his mouth as his cock shot of stream after stream of pearly white strands against the concrete wall. A hand wrapped around his cock, milking out every last drop and all McCree could do was let out a shallow whimper around those fingers. His limbs felt suddenly heavy and he reached out, bracing himself against the wall as Hanzo’s efforts redoubled to continue fucking into the tight space of his body. 

Hanzo snarled and removed his hand from McCree’s mouth the wrap around his thick throat. His hand dropped the now limp cock and moved back to his hip, bracing himself as he continued to slam into the other’s body. His thrusts now jackhammering away, his rhythm all but forgotten.

McCree closed his eyes, moving back against him to chase the lust that still burned inside him until the thrusts became too erratic. His grip tightened around McCree’s throat as he pulled him back, biting and kissing those swollen lips hard as he slammed in one final time and howled through his own release.

McCree could feel it painting his insides, hot long threads of come shooting deeply inside his stomach, giving him a feeling of fullness that he had not experienced in a long time. 

Hanzo slumped forward, onto his back and Jesse followed suit. Both men crumpled into the street, Hanzo’s cock still inside his body, softening. McCree’s hands curled in the rigid material of his coat. He could feel the cool stickiness of his own seed on his outfit and he gave a disgusted groan at the knowledge that he would have to carry it back to base.

Hanzo grunted and lifted McCree’s hips as he pulled out, watching his come start to dribble out of the puffy, abused hole. With his thumb, he scooped the escaping slickness up and pressed it back into his hole. Jesse moaned and tightened the loose ring of muscle around the digit, knowing exactly what Hanzo was doing. His eyes threatened to close as exhaustion fell over him like a blanket. 

McCree closed his eyes as he reached down and tried in vain to pull his bunched pants up. His hands were shaking from both the sex and exhaustion. He blinked awake though the moment he felt a nose on the back of his neck and strong hands moving to adjust him and set him right. He leaned back into the arms of Hanzo and let the other nuzzle the back of his neck, the coarse hair of his manicured beard leaving the most delicious tickle in its wake. He found himself pulled into the other man’s lap, still debauched and still dirty, but completely dressed. Somehow this made him feel the most vulnerable. 

Throughout the entire ordeal, Hanzo could have killed him or maimed him in dozens of different fashions. But here, held in the other man’s strong arms, both completely dressed, he found the light kisses behind his ear, the gentle rubbing of his thumb against his covered chest, he felt naked and exposed. McCree indulged in the sensitive touch, not remembering a time when any lover had held him in such a fashion, taking him down from the high of ecstasy into the comfort of closeness. He wanted to sleep. To stay here. He nuzzled back.

Hours passed. Or Days. Or minutes.

Hanzo was the first to pull back, setting McCree upright and out of his dreamlike daze. Both men finished adjusting themselves without a word. He did not look at Hanzo, afraid of what he might see if he did chose to turn. He felt the same presence from the other man. He shifted the coat over his arms and licked his lips. He steeled himself as he turned, not sure if he would ask for his number, even if it was plainly marked in his work phone already. How does one go about finishing off a night of sex in an alley with someone that is supposed to be a stranger? 

He turned and found the alley empty. And quiet. McCree let out a sigh, not surprised at all. What else could he expect out of an expert assassin such as Hanzo Shimada? Or Ryu, the sexy, mysterious Asian man he met in the bar that bought him one drink and fucked him senseless in an alley?

Jesse sighed and ran two hands through his hair in an attempt to center his mind before he would return to base, shower, and sleep until Genji woke him with the promised hair treatment. He looked around for his new, olive green Stetson. Gone. He smirked a little as he limped slowly out of the alley. 

Hanzo Shimada took trophies.

\-----------

Two hands ruffled through his unkempt hair. Genji had promised his hairstylist was a miracle worker, and he had not lied. Brown hair, coiffed messily now greeted him as he sat in a chair waiting for the debriefing meeting over his failed mission. He felt more normal at least, in jeans and flannel. His beaten leather stetson now adorned his head. The only piece that was not normal was the damn goatee and mustache. The stylist really gave him only two options when it came to his facial hair, have a clean shaven baby face or keep what he had and she would attempt to dye it normal. 

There was no way in hell Jesse McCree would be cleanly shaven. He was a man’s man. And honestly, he looked twelve when clean shaven. Back in Blackwatch, Reyes would often shave him clean and send him into high schools. Even at twenty-five, people still confused him with seventeen. He was a man, damn it. He didn’t want to be carded for drinks. So the porn ‘stache, as Genji called it, stayed. It would only take a few weeks for him to get back to normal scruff levels.

Winston was the first into the room, laying out folders at each of the different places for different people, not saying a word to McCree, as was protocol. Angela came in next and sat calmly. McCree wondered briefly who the third would be to ream his ass about getting caught undercover and possibly allowing a target to know Overwatch was onto them. 

Genji wouldn’t be it. He had informed McCree to just rely on his undercover skills. He was a master of disguise. A real Mystery Man. McCree ran his palms over his face, pressing his eyes to try and center his aching head. He could not think about the delicious burn still in his body or the fact that after this he was going to head back to his quarters, lock the door and beat off his dick just thinking about the previous night.

The door opened and he heard the third person settle. He groaned and laid his forehead flat on the table. “Can we get this over with?” He grumbled out.

Angela let out a light giggle that sounded like bells chiming. “This isn’t the old Overwatch. We aren’t going to chastise you.” A harumph came from her left. Obviously, someone wanted to screw him a new asshole. “We have detailed logs over everything that happened before you were compromised. Please detail your escape.”

McCree sighed and went into how he changed his appearance before hopping on a plane to Russia. He then caught a plane to France, caught a layover to Amsterdam. He took a train to Munich, where he got on another plane to Barcelona and, finally, took some little pond hopper plane back to Gibraltar.

Winston chimed in now, “Did the target at any time assess that you were an agent of Overwatch?”

“Negative, I can assess that he believed I worked for a rival cartel and was fishing for information. They never made me as a spy, sir.” McCree said, slipping back into his Blackwatch need to be ornery. The table was cool against his forehead. He didn’t want to move.

The third spoke up then, “Are you sure your disguise was enough to make sure they didn’t make you? You are not one for subtlety.” Hanzo. His words were crisp and biting. Aloof. His normal state. McCree felt his stomach twist, thinking back to the obscene words Hanzo used not twelve hours before.

McCree sat up, a smirk emboldened on his face. “Fooled you right enough, Sweetheart.”

The red that crept up Hanzo’s neck and to his ears was satisfying as his perfect mouth hung open as he took a long look at McCree, even without the blond, recognition dawned into his features the moment he took him in. McCree had never seen a man lose the coloring in his face and blush in the same instant before.

“By the way, I do want my hat back.”

**Author's Note:**

> My perfect world: 2070's do not have STDs anymore. The boys can totally bang without condoms and there is zero consequence. Hurrah! (I really just wanted to make a mess of Jesse.)
> 
> If you like please comment or leave feedback. I also am on Tumblr, my name is Phylix.


End file.
